


You don't have to go home

by Imadeamistake



Category: DDT Pro-Wrestling, Professional Wrestling, 新日本プロレス | New Japan Pro-Wrestling
Genre: Dropkick bar, Fluff, Holding Hands, Language Barrier, M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-22 11:42:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17059142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imadeamistake/pseuds/Imadeamistake
Summary: Short fluff. Ibushi 'works' behind the bar.





	You don't have to go home

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to myrica-rubra for the prompt and editing.

The bar was busy that night, but Kota Ibushi was still finding time to drink. When he couldn't find the time, he made it.

Kenny, working next to him in the narrow space behind the bar, glanced over while assembling a cocktail and huffed in mock outrage when he caught Kota helping himself to a glass of beer.

"I'm not even meant be working here tonight," Kenny chided while cutting up a lime, "this is your night. I come here out of the goodness of my heart to help you, my friend, my tag team partner and you just slack off even more!"

Kota waved him off with a “daijoubu,” and a quick string of words Kenny couldn’t understand.

"They probably want their drinks sometime this year Ibushi-san!"

He shrugged and took another sip of his beer.

In all fairness, the customers did seem resigned to their fate. The young woman on the other side of the bar had been waiting for ten minutes for her mojito and she looked content to go ten more, stealing awed glances at Kota when she thought he wasn’t looking.

"Fine, you’re the boss, but all I'm going to say is that in Canada? Both of us would have been fired by now."

Kota moved behind Kenny, grabbed him around the waist and lifted him off his feet to the delighted squeals of those assembled. He carried Kenny out from behind the bar and released him next to the TV, his arms lingering a little longer around his stomach than they needed to. Kenny noticed and then tried to un-notice for the sake of his own sanity.

Kota pointed at the games console and sternly suggested that Kenny keep himself busy with it. Not that Kenny had understood a single word of what he had said, but his meaning was clear. He put his hands on Kenny’s shoulders and turned him to face the screen, leaving no room for argument.

Two rounds of street fighter went by before Kenny dared to look back again. The customer at the bar was still standing there empty handed with an expression of pure delight, watching Kota stack a tower of beer cans five levels high. No one was getting angry. No one was going to come and shout at the mayhem of it all. This time Kenny let it be. He was leaving the country in two days. Kota could deal with the consequences if it came to that. 

...

Though he’d had been forbidden from serving behind the bar, Kota was more than happy to accept his help closing when the last customers had staggered out, happy and glowing into the night.  

“Why didn’t you just put the lids back on these bottles as you went? How did you even manage to find anything in this mess?”

Kota just smiled at him, his eyes glittering in the dark and Kenny’s next complaint died on his tongue. It was hard to tell anyone off when they beamed at you like that, and Kota Ibushi even more so. Kenny felt his face go red and had to break eye contact. The way Kota was looking at him felt dangerous. He kept his head down and his mouth shut until every lid was back on its bottle and every bottle back on its shelf.

“Owatta,” said Kota, pushing Kenny towards the exit after he’d grown bored of emptying the dishwasher. He must have grown bored because it was nowhere near empty. Kenny made a half-hearted attempt at pointing this out, anxious the manager might report back about their poor work, but Kota put his hand around his wrist and tugged him out the door.

Kota locked up and tucked the keys into his pocket, grinning at Kenny, his cheeks flushed from the drinks he’d been sneaking all evening. As they walked along the empty street, he slipped his hand down Kenny’s arm and interlocked their fingers. There was no one around to see them in the darkness. Kenny squeezed Kota’s hand tight. Two more days.

Kota pointed towards the train station, cocked his head and asked a question that could have been anything. Kenny would have followed him anywhere.


End file.
